


What's in a Dream

by Willow580



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:52:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6825913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willow580/pseuds/Willow580
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a work in progress so please be patient. It is also extremely unbeta'd and subject to change. Hey, thanks.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress so please be patient. It is also extremely unbeta'd and subject to change. Hey, thanks.

Without knowing how he had gotten there, Dean was standing outside a motel door. It was old and worn, the brown paint peeling off in chunks. He wasn't sure why this particular door was the sole focus of his attention. It looked like all the other doors; the only difference was the number on it. With a deep breath, and because he knew he couldn't leave without doing it, he knocked on the door. As he waited to see what would happen, he put his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans, and started to look around warily. The sun was just starting to set, painting the world in red. Across the parking lot there was a small group of what could only be described as thugs. He was eyeing them warily, worried about his Baby. Just as he was trying to decide if he should knock again or leave, thinking he had finally lost it being drawn to a rundown motel in the middle of nowhere, he heard the door creak open. He turned, with an arrogant smirk on his lips and froze, his mouth going dry.  
The most stunning creature he had even seen was standing in the doorway. Every thought he had ever had vanished. All he could do was stare and then his mind was flooded by a whole string of images that would make Crowley blush, and that were currently making his jeans rather uncomfortable.  
"Yes?" She asked, eyes full of confusion. "May I help you?" Dean had been standing there gaping at her so long that she was starting to fidget nervously.  
Trying to think of something to say so she wouldn't slam the door in his face and immediately call the cops about the freak at her door, he cast about for a topic but all that came out was a very inarticulate "uh…." One of her perfectly shaped, raven black brows rose. Taking a deep breath, Dean swallowed and tried again, "Dean, my name is Dean."  
Smiling the most innocent and, yet somehow incredibly suggestive smile he had ever seen, she held out a delicate hand for him to shake. "Devyn." The second his hand touched hers electricity shot through his body igniting small fires under his skin. Throwing the door wide, she invited him in. "Can I offer you a drink?" Turning, she strolled back into the small but clean motel room with Dean right on her heels. The more he watched her, the more convinced he became that he knew her from somewhere. That he had seen these graceful movements before. And that a woman like that was definately not safe in a neigborhood like this.  
"I'm sorry but, have we met before?" He asked as he watched her make him a Jack on the rocks. How did she know that was his drink of choice? Sitting in the oddly comfortable, oversized chair he studied her as she brought him his drink and then tidied up the makeshift bar. Every move she made exuded an intoxicating mixture of sexuality and innocence.  
"I'm pretty sure I would remember if we had Dean. I don't think I could forget someone like you," she purred in a voice slightly huskier than it had been before.  
"What’d’ya mean someone like me," he asked, intrigued, watching her as she pondered his question. He let his eyes rove over her face from her mesmerizing, violet eyes, to her full, lush lips and high cheekbones. Her neck was graceful and slender and he very much envied the lock of raven hair that was resting there. The rest of her hair spilled to her waist in loose curls that looked satiny to the touch. His hands itched with the desire to run through it and see if it was as soft as it looked. He would wager it was, and that those curls would wrap around his wrist as if trying to pull him closer. Her waist was so small he could probably wrap his hands all the way around it. She was wearing one of those obscenely short summer dressed that showed more of her shapely legs than it covered. The neck swooped so low it made her full, creamy breasts look as though they would pop out at the slightest movement and, Dean had to admit, he really, really wished they would. With his hands starting to tremble he continued his perusal of her body. Her arms were toned but not overly muscular and her hands were delicate looking with long slender fingers. Just as he was admiring her shapely legs that looked like they had been made to wrap around a man, he realized she had said something to him and was waiting on a response.  
"Uh. Sorry, what?" He stammered, trying to get his brain switched back into conversation mode.  
The look on his face was adorable. His ever-changing, moss colored eyes were both cloudy with confusion and glassy with lust. She had stood there watching as his eyes wandered her body. Everywhere they touched felt like a caress. Her body temperature had risen and she felt tongues of flame curling under her skin. She swallowed, trying to moisten her dry throat. With a husky laugh she looked into those eyes and said, once again, "sex on a stick."  
At that his pupils dilated and those sexy as sin, made for kissing, lips parted, "excuse me," he rasped.  
"You haven't touched your drink."  
He could swear that damn dress was getting tinier. The white lace covering even less than before. He threw back his Jack in one shot. It was easy since all the ice had been melted by his temperature spike. He cleared his throat, " Are you gonna sit or are you just gonna stand there staring at me like that?"  
At that, she smirked and sashayed toward him settling herself right on his lap. The bulge in his jeans expressed its excitement by twitching and swelling even more. As she shifted around to get more comfortable a moan escaped his lips and his eyes drifted shut. Before he had a chance to force them back open he heard a silver, tinkling laugh and felt warm, moist air on his ear.  
"You asked what I meant by ‘someone like you’? I meant I would remember if I had run into sex on a stick before." She wrapped her arm around his neck and ran her fingers though his hair. With a sigh she slid her tongue along his jaw, pulling another moan from his gorgeous lips. Pressing herself even closer to him she slid her free hand into the open collar of his shirt and slowly stroked the warm, silky skin she found there.


	2. Chapter 2

With that scorching touch, he was thrown back in time to the first time he had The Dream.

 _The sun was warm on his shoulders and the beer cold in his hand. He was in one of his "safe" places sitting on a dock with his line in the water. He wasn't here for the fish. He was here for the peace and solitude. He leaned back in his faded blue camp chair and took another swig of beer. He laid his head back and looked up at the sky. The sun was warm on his face. His brilliant green eyes drifted shut and his body went lax. After a few moments he heard a splash. With a smile he sat up and grabed his pole. He's caught a fish. He reels it in and a part of his mind registers that it is a Rainbow Trout. As the sun glinted off the rainbow scales he gently pulled the hook out of its mouth and placed it back in the crystal blue water. Suddenly, he stiffened. The solitude was broken. He was no longer alone. He sat back down in his chair and took another swig of his now warm beer showing no sign that he knew the intruder was there, invading his personal space. Gently, a hand slid down his chest, under the collar of his shirt. He grabbed the attached wrist to impede the downward progress. His eyes tracked up the perfectly formed arm. With a crystalline giggle she slid into his field of vision. Hair dark as night was the first thing that registered, followed very quickly by the tiny, bare waist it was curled around. His eyes trailed up a flat, firm stomach to the edge of a white, lacy shirt that barely covered the underside of two firm, full breasts. His eyes lingered there for a few moments before, with a shuddery breath, they continued their upward trajectory. A couple inches of nearly sheer lace later he reached the top of the very full, creamy breasts. A shadow of dusky skin just barely visible along the edge that made him lick his lips. He followed the curve higher still. Her neck was delicate and swanlike, just made to be nibbled. Her lips were plump and tempting. Her nose was straight and pert. And her eyes! He had never seen eyes like hers before. They were depthless, violet. A shade he had never seen before, deep and velvety. She was gorgeous. He was so stunned by her beauty his grip loosened and as soon as it did her downward exploration continued. Dean’s eyes drifted shut as she gently stoked his chest. With a whisper of sound he felt her slide her hand back out of his shirt. Just as he was about to protest, her hands bunched in his shirt and with a quick, sure move, his shirt was ripped down the middle and his muscular chest exposed. With a murmur of appreciation, her hands returned to his chest and traced their way down to the trail of coarse hair that disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. His body was amazing. More delicious than any she had ever seen, and she had seen more than her fair share. His golden skin glowed in the sunlight, radiating warmth. She skimmed her nails across his flat, muscular abdomen, tracing her way back up so she could flick her nails across his nipples until they hardened in appreciation. He practically jumped out of his chair and a whimper slipped from his lips at the intimate contact. His eyes flicked open and he watched under heavy lids as she settled herself astride his lap and rubbed against the bulge she found there with a contented purr. Heart already beating double time, his breathing accelerated with the delicious pressure. He released his death grip on his beer and gently slid his hand up her back with just enough pressure that she leaned into him. His other hand sliding up her calf until he could caress the back of her knee. She shuddered at the sensual touch and knew she was no longer in charge of this seduction. She knew it was dangerous but she could not bring herself to care, his callused hands felt too good on her sensitized skin. His hand slid up her leg until it rested on her firm, silky thigh. His eyes staring intensely into hers he lowered his mouth until it gently touched hers. With a sigh of pleasure, her eyelids fluttered shut and she turned herself over to the lust spiking through her blood, trusting that this man knew what she wanted. What she needed. Dean increased the pressure of his kiss. It went from gentle and tender to aggressive and fierce. She whimpered as her lips parted and he thrust inside. Her hands clenched into fists against his chest. His left hand slid up her back and tangled in her raven hair. He tilted her head back to deepen the kiss even more. His tongue explored every corner, every crevice. As she tangled her tongue with his, liquid heat burned low in her stomach and she felt moisture pool where they touched intimately. Dean felt the rush of heat and ground himself up into it. She moaned in the back of her throat and increased the pressure. His right hand clenched around her thigh and used it to pull her even closer. She whimpered as the friction increased and Dean’s cock swelled even more. He released his grip on her thigh and slid his fingers under the band of her impossibly tiny shorts and stroked the delicate flesh he found there. With a shudder she spread her legs even wider. "Touch me Dean, please" she panted. A part of his mind registered that he had never told her his name but that thought disappeared as he slid his fingers lower still and lightly grazed the sensitive bundle of nerves he found there. With a shriek, she jumped as sparks rocketed through her body. She writhed against his hand, pleading with her body. Wanting to make this last, and knowing it wouldn't if he remained there for a second longer, he slid his fingers lower still until he reached her white, hot core. "Dean," she begged, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. She was so hot and wet and he was so hard, he didn't think he could last much longer. With one hand still caressing between her legs and the other tangled in her hair, he leaned forward and whispered, "touch me. I want to feel your hands on my cock." It took a moment for the request to sink into her lust soaked brain but when it did her fists unclenched. Her hands were trembling so badly it took her three tries to undo the button of his jeans. When she finally fumbled it open, he sprang free without much coaxing. He was beautiful. She slid her hand down his shaft, reveling in the effect she had on him. The head glistened with moisture and was velvety to the touch. She ran her thumb over the tip and earned a throaty growl for her efforts. He thrust himself further into her hand and at the same time he thrust two fingers up inside her heat causing her to clench around him with a moan. She looked up into his eyes and tightened her grip on his member. She oh so slowly slid her hand down to the base and back up and ground herself into his hand in rhythm to her strokes. He pressed his thumb into her clit and moved it in slow circles all the while increasing the tempo of his fingers. She writhed and wrapped her other hand around his substantial girth and quickened her strokes._ Just as he was about to come he was jerked from the dream. He would open his eyes and Sam would be there, concern etched across his features. "Dean? Dean, are you ok? You were having a nightmare." He had this dream multiple times a week. Dozens of variations but it always ended the same way, with Sam waking him up and Dean taking an ice cold shower.


	3. Chapter 3

With a smile on her face, she reminded herself to go slow, that humans were delicate creatures. As it was, she worried that Dean might have a heart attack before they even had a chance to have some real fun. She could feel his heart thudding against her chest and nipped the tender skin below his ear just to feel it pound harder.  
Dean wrapped his arms around Devyn and slid his hands up her back pressing her even closer to him. A shiver ran through her and she pulled her head back slightly so she could look into his lust filled eyes. "Dean," she moaned and then his lips, those glorious, sensuous, perfect, made to be kissed lips were pressed to hers gently, at first. They were soft and tender but with a growl deep in his throat Dean intensified the kiss. His mouth firmed against Devyn’s and his tongue shot out and flicked against her lips. He stroked and caressed and begged for entry, pleaded. With a breathy sigh, she allowed him the entry he so desperately wanted. When their tongues met she felt a rush of liquid fire lower in her body. His hand slid to her hip leaving a warm, tingling trail in its wake. Dean caressed the curve of her hip and trailed his hand lower still until it came to rest just below the hem of her impossibly short dress. He caressed the silky skin there, teasing her every so often by slipping a finger even higher until it slid under the edge of her dress. She started to squirm under his ministrations, moaning and panting. With his cock nestled firmly across her cheeks, every movement sent shockwaves throughout his body. He pulled his mouth off hers, panting. He wrapped his hands around her waist and gently lifted her until she was standing in front of him.  
Her full lips were swollen and her eyes cloudy with lust and confusion. "Dean?" She didn't understand. This was not what was supposed to happen. Had she done something wrong?  
"We just need to get a bit more comfortable," he murmured as he stood. Taking her hand, he led her over to the couch. He sat and pulled her down so she was straddling him, and so he had easier access to her heat. Her dress was so short he could see she wasn't wearing anything underneath it. "Fuck,' he breathed as the bulge under his jeans, impossibly, swelled more. "Devyn, you gotta help a guy out, here," he pleaded.  
She slid back a little to allow herself access and Dean wrapped his hands around her waist afraid she was going to get up. "I'm just giving myself a little room so I don't hurt you," she whispered. She trailed her hands up his arms, across his shoulders, and down his chest until she reached the hem of his shirt. She slid her hands up underneath and gently scratched. Dean held completely still, enjoying the sensation more than he thought was possible, watching her face as she caressed his abdomen. Then, with a quick jerk, she ripped his shirt off over his head and revealed his godlike body.  
It was flawless and even sexier than in the dreams. In there, things were sort of soft, and blurry around the edges. It was nothing compared to the reality of touching this man. His chest was well defined from years of hunting, but not overly muscular. The skin was warm and golden from hours spent in the sun, probably working on his Baby. He was perfection. From his warm, green eyes, to the anti-possession tattoo on his left pectoral, even down to the Mark on his right forearm. She stroked the angry scar with one finger and a frown marred her brow. He didn't deserve this. His life was difficult enough as it was.  
“It's from a welding torch,” Dean murmured. A lie, but he didn't think he could tell her the truth. She'd think he was nuts and either kick him out, or leave herself, and the fiery ache in his jeans would kill him if either happened. Pulling one hand from her waist, he used it to tilt her face back up so she was looking at him and not the Mark. Her brow was furrowed and her bottom lip had disappeared between her teeth. If he didn't know better, he would suspect that those were tears shimmering in her eyes. “It doesn't hurt, “he whispered, running his thumb across her cheek. She offered him a small smile, her lip red and trembling. Gently, he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. “Do you want to stop?” he asked, his lips still ghosting across hers. His brain, and parts further south, were screaming, praying she would want to continue, but knowing if she said the word, he would stop. She sat there for a full five minutes, just looking at him.  
Oh God, she was going to say it. He could tell by the look in her eyes. There weren't enough cold showers in the world to save him from insanity if she stopped. Wait, can you die from hornyness!? He really didn't want to find out. He had just started planning how he would end it all when he felt a light touch through his jeans and then her lips were pressed so tightly to his he couldn’t think. He opened his mouth to say something and her tongue thrust its way inside. It was an all-out assault on his tongue. She was flicking and taunting him until his tongue finally joined hers. Just when he was getting lightheaded from lack of air, the pressure on his lap increased for a split second and then it was gone. She pulled her mouth from his and kissed her way across his jaw and down to his neck. He leaned his head back to revel the feel of her mouth on his neck, sucking and biting.  
She loved the effect she had on him. He was so wrapped up in what her mouth was doing he hadn't yet registered what her hands had done. But he would, and very soon. She slid a hand down either side of his rock hard cock, over the top of his boxers. Inch by devastatingly slow inch, she worked her way down until she could lightly stroke his balls through the material. At the intimate contact, Dean’s head flew up so he could look at her. He stared her in the eye as she stroked him, light as a feather through the fabric. Her tongue darted out to lick her full bottom lip drawing his attention. It was at that exact moment her hand slid through the opening in his boxers and teasingly danced up his length. With a yelp, Dean jumped at the contact and his reaction caused another surge of heat to race toward her core.


	4. Chapter 4

_The forest was full of diffused light, radiating from all directions. It was just bright enough to make out the shapes around her. She was in an old growth forest, the likes of which haven't been seen in the US since the industrial revolution. She was out of breath, panting. She had been running for so long and was so tired. Leaning against a tree, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath, her eyes never stopped moving; searching. She knew It was out there, tracking her. She heard a rustle, to the right and a little behind. Her head whipped around and her breath caught in her chest. Had It caught up already!? She knew she couldn't outrun It for long but she had hoped for a little more time. The forest was still. There was no sound, no movement. It was eerie and the light did not help. It came from nowhere and everywhere all at the same time. The trees were huge. They must be thousands of years old. Steamers of moss hung everywhere clinging to the trees like a needy lover. She had become tangled in their grasping hands once and almost lost her life. The forest debris on the ground was thick and spongy. It made running difficult, and dangerous in its own way. If you weren't careful, you could slip and get tangled in the vines; or worse, break a bone. She noticed earlier tonight, (or was it weeks ago? It was impossible to tell here) there were no living creatures here. Nothing but her, and It. No movement, no life. She didn't know how she had gotten here, or where here was for that matter, but she was determined to find a way out. Her breathing had returned close enough to normal that she decided it was time to move, possibly find some defensible place to rest. A river! She could hear it! The bubbling, rushing sound of moving water. It was the first sound she had heard in hours (days?). Her mood already lightened by the fact that there had been so sign of the creature hunting her, it soared dramatically at the thought of fresh, cool water. She could get a drink, wash off her filthy arms and face. She looked down at herself and stuck her tongue out in disgust. She was glad there were no people here to run into. She looked like hell, at least, the parts of herself she could see did. Her jeans were more hole than pant and she was sure if she tried to wash the mud off they would fall apart completely. Her shirt, which she suspected of beginning as a mossy green tank top, was missing a strap and had a hole on the bottom that was big enough for a cat to crawl through. She was convinced her knee high boots had, at one time, been designer but were now hobo chic. God, she didn't even want to think about her hair! With single-minded determination she followed the sound of the water. It was almost to a deafening roar by now and she could hardly contain her excitement. Scrabbling up the side of an incline she knew the river would be on the other side. When she reached the top, what she saw shocked and confused her. About ten yards in front of her was a stream. She couldn't really see in the dim light but it looked to be very slow moving, and very shallow. She slowly inched her way forward, stop motion style, not unlike the movements of a cat stalking prey, until she was at the bank. Where had the roar come from? It couldn't have come from this tiny stream. Was this an off shoot of a major river? If so, then why couldn't she hear it anymore? Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, she dropped to her knees in the water and sank her hands into the cool freshness. She splashed water up her arms, scrubbing the caked on mud and sweat away. Using her hands as a cup, she scooped up handful after handful of water and drank until she thought she was going to be sick. She had never tasted anything better than this cool, crisp, slightly muddy because of her, fresh water. After she had slaked her thirst, she splashed off her face and scrubbed the back of her neck. How she wished she could strip down and sink into the water. To scrub the gunk from her hair and clothes and just lay on the grassy bank, naked, until everything was dry. But she knew she couldn't. She knew as soon as she let her guard down enough It would appear and she would end up running for her life, naked as the day she was born. But maybe she could at least wash her hair…. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she heard It. Whipping her head up, she saw It, right across the stream from her! Had it been watching her!? She jumped to her feet and It let out a scream. It was the most horrible sound she had ever heard. It was almost human. It was so full of hunger and rage that it held her transfixed. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a word shimmered across her consciousness. Wendigo. She didn't know where the word came from but she didn't dwell on it. The second it locked into place she turned on her heel and ran, as fast as she could, like her life depended on it, because of course, it did. She moved like a deer. Fast and fleet, sure of foot. As she concentrated on staying ahead of the Wendigo, she craned her head around to see where it was. As she rounded a huge rock, she crashed into something solid and a band of steel went around her waist. Whipping her head around to see what it was, she came face to rippling pectorals of the most gorgeous chest she had ever seen. It was broad and solid. Her eyes gliding up a neck covered in bronze skin, a rugged jaw with a few days worth of stubble, and lingered on his full, pink lips before continuing up to his eyes. He glanced down at her for a split second and she lost herself in the depths of those eyes. In one incredibly smooth, masculine, sexy move, he thrust her behind his back and brought up his other hand which contained...... a home made flamethrower? She peeked around his shoulder just as the Wendigo came around the rock. He caught it square in the face with a jet of fire. It shriek and thrashed. Flailing in an effort to escape the flames that engulfed it. Toasted. It all took just a fraction of a second but it was long enough for all of Devyn’s memories to come flooding back. Millions of memories flashed through her mind and, with a gasp, she remembered who she was, where she was, and what she was doing there. She also remembered, in delicious detail, the man to whose back she was currently clinging. Devyn started to back away, trying to get her baring's. What had happened!? She had never lost control of a dream, let alone enough so that she lost herself like that. Suddenly, her body jerked. Her heel had caught on a rock and she went tumbling backward._


End file.
